The Scientist
by Whooligan
Summary: A short fic based on the song "The Scientist" by Coldplay. Story about Billy's attempts to get his Penny back.


**AUTHORS NOTES: Sorta Song-fic for Dr. Horrible, based on Coldplay's The Scientist. I swear this song was written for the aftermath of this story! But just so you know, I tried to stick to the song as a guideline for this story... So don't be surprised at the large amount of quotes.**

**ALSO; I've had this idea for a while, and have been too lazy to write it. This means I finally forced myself to write it at midnight- I did go over it, but any spelling or grammatical errors must be apologized for. They surely have been caused by Moist. He typed it, after all, and we all know how well he does with… well… anything involving his hands.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Doc. I don't even own the song. I do own the goggles, and soon the coat... But that's just because I rock. ;D**

Dr. Horrible stood, goggles over his eyes as he messed with the dials and buttons in front of him. The machine gave an electric hum, lights flashing as it prepared for it's task. He paused, hand on a large lever; this was it, the moment he'd been waiting for. His gaze flashed to the table next to him, where Penny's body lay. Her hands and legs were strapped down, a sheet modestly covering her bare skin. Wires were attached to her pale skin, leading back to the machine.

"...Doc? Are you ready?" Moist's voice broke him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the task at hand.

His grip tightened on the handle with all his might as he pulled. Immediately sparks flew up, making Moist cry out in surprise. Dr. Horrible covered his face, taking a step back; then it was over.

He was immediately beside Penny's still form, staring down at her. She stayed still. He stayed there for a good five minutes, checking for any sign of life, any sign he'd succeeded...

Suddenly Moist was beside him again. "Uh, Doc... I don't think it worked." his voice was quiet and cautious, afraid to upset his boss. The Doctor could get violent when he wasn't satisfied, something Moist had learned first hand.

Dr. Horrible stayed silent for a moment, any emotion hidden behind the dark goggles. Finally he spoke, his gaze never leaving Penny. "Leave."

Moist immediately backed away, half-running out the lab door. Three years ago he would have never left his friend alone in such a state. Of course, three years ago he'd been someone else.

Dr. Horrible stood beside the corpse of the only girl he'd ever loved, still waiting for any sign of movement. Finally he stood, moving silently to his work table. His equations for the machine sat here- long, unreadable scribbles of numbers with doodles and sketches randomly thrown in. Suddenly he grabbed the papers, flinging them off the desk with all his might. He yelled- no words, just sound- but the call soon turned into a sob as he slid to the floor.

"_Penny..."_ the one choked word seemed almost too much for the mad scientist as it was swallowed by another sob. His black clad hand flew up to his goggles, ripping them off violently and flinging them to the ground. Tears flowed freely from his blue eyes, leaving stains on his blood-red coat. He drew up his knees, lowered his head, and let the sobs shake his small frame.

After a moment he stood, wiping his eyes. He picked up his papers and set them back on the desk. Next came the goggles, slid onto his forehead. He sat at the desk, grabbing a pencil. His eyes drifted to the body still strapped to the table. Penny...

He wished he could do it all over again. Wished he could tell her he was sorry, tell her he loved her, Tell her how truly beautiful she was. His eyes snapped back to his equations. That's why he had to bring her back. He had to find her amongst the lost souls, tell her how much he needed her. Tell her that she hadn't just been a laundry buddy to him, another face in the crowd of idiotic souls. No, she'd been different. He wanted to know everything about her. Wanted to share everything with her.

He loved her.

He frowned at the problem he was working on, the numbers blurring from exhaustion and tears. He threw down his pencil, standing and moving to the door. Moist was right sitting on the couch as he opened it, waiting. "I need your help."

Moist said nothing about the redness in the Doc's eyes, or the spots on his coat. He only stood and followed his friend back into the lab.

"I can't figure it out. I know there's something wrong with the math, but I just can't see it." Dr. Horrible rubbed a hand across his forehead, fighting back the migraine that had been trying to pound it's way forward for days.

"Maybe some sleep would help?" Moist suggested softly, looking at his friend. The Doc hadn't slept for days, and had only eaten enough to survive.

But Dr. Horrible only glared at the suggestions. "I've been running in circles for days. This should be easy- what's wrong with me?" his voice had raised to a yell, causing Moist to jump.

"Nobody said it'd be easy," his friend reminded him. Billy glared, then sighed and fell into his seat.

"It's not right. She should be here now- I'm a genius, I should have resurrected her by now! Moist, this _should _be easy!"

"Moist sat across from him, chewing his bottom lip uneasily."Doc, only you think it should be easy. This is breaking so many laws of physics that most would've given up by now. It's not supposed to be easy."

There was a moment of silence, the Doctor's face hidden in his hands. When he spoke again his voice was a near whisper. "but it's not supposed to be this hard."

Moist sighed, unable to give his friend the answer he wanted. He sat their for a long minute, waiting for the Doc to need further encouragement. But when a soft snore crossed the table, Moist was surprised and relieved to realize he'd fallen asleep.

He rose, grabbing a blanket off the oversized chair and draping it over his friend's shoulders. "You'll figure it out," He whispered to the Doc's sleeping form. "Eventually, you'll get it. I know you will." with that he left, shutting the door as quietly as possible.

Dr. Horrible awoke a few hours later, not surprised to find the blanket around his shoulders. He shrugged it off, standing and moving to his whiteboard. He squinted at the problem; the answer had to be here. He flipped the board, wiping pieces of the equations away to make space for more writing.

After a few minutes he had tossed math out the window, guessing at random figures in order to somehow find the right equation. Suddenly he stopped, staring at the board. After a moment or two he erased it all and started over. The numbers blurred, his tired mind not having enough fuel to keep the numbers flowing right. He began to question if this new sciences he'd thought up would even work. Doubts surfaced, the dark voice in the back of his mind telling him to give up. He wasn't making any progress, only wasting precious time that the E.L.E would take back with force. After all, this was impossible. But above all of his doubts rose another voice.

"You can do it, Billy. You can bring her back."

It sounded oddly like Penny; too much like Penny. He didn't stop, the voice only spurring him on more. It shattered the rising doubts and his fragile mind, and he let it. Who needed sanity as long as Penny was here?

"Billy, don't give up. I need you. I love you."

He stopped, lowering the marker. His frantic scribbling had turned illegible, even to him. He sighed, turning. There she stood, wearing her blue dress. Her face was pale, her lips blue; much like the corpse that lay mere feet away.

His eyes met hers, and he immediately felt his guilt come back ten-fold. There was so much despair in that gaze. So much pain and confusion. She moved forward, floating, and reached out a hand to toy with his hair. He watched her eyes move up silently to read the equation he'd begun. Her face screwed up with confusion again before she turned to him, a desperation filling her gaze. "Will his one bring me back, Billie?"

The hope in her voice almost broke him as he shook his head. Anger and sadness replaced her desperation as she pulled away. "You've given up on me?"

He sighed, bringing up his marker and beginning to write again. "Never. You know that." he paused, re-reading his numbers.

"Then what are you doing?" her tone had lightened considerably as she moved next to him again, trying to understand the strange markings on the board.

Billy took a step back, looking at the drawing at the end of the equation. It showed a stick figure with goggles standing on a platform, then the date next to it. But it wasn't today's date- he'd written the date three years prior, the day he'd let Penny die. He would fix this, one way or another. The answer didn't lie in reviving her- he'd been running in circles for years. No, this was the real answer. "I'm going back to the start."


End file.
